What Makes Me Burn
by JuJupiter
Summary: Diego struggles to accept the fact Johnny is more distant, and decides to confront him. He is sure his heart is burning with spite, but hate isn't the only thing that can fuel a fire and it's impossible to ignore how much everything is changing...


Hate is a powerful emotion, almost as strong as love, and so similar in its obsession it isn't always easy to distinguish the two. It may sound contradictory, but it's undeniable. When feelings are so strong, the line that separates them becomes less clear.

Considerations like those were normally too abstract for Diego to give them any consideration, but those specific words had suddenly grown to have a huge significance for him. The reason was both simple and practical: he was starting to experiment a similar paradox himself. It was hunting, overwhelming and nearly humiliating, but there was a dark pleasure hidden within; it was like fire for months, deadly yet irresistible.

Perhaps the worst part was the face tied to those feelings: Johnny.

His rival used to feel him with race, but slowly yet surely that burning and consuming emotion had turned into something more confusing. It scared him. The desires he had hid, destructive and harsh, were mutating and turning into something more tumultuous and confusing. He desired to have Johnny in his power, but not only to crush his bones; while his hands were on that man, he wanted to make the best out of it. He desired his person as a whole.  
What did that mean? Diego himself didn't know.

After the Steel Ball Run, that awkward mess of contrasting emotions had found new fuel. Being defeated hurt, and seeing Johnny going on about his life, finally able to walk and race again, did nothing but give more emphasis to his failure. Johnny had lost a lot, but it was undeniable he had also _won_ a lot.  
Of the two, in the end he had been the one kissed by victory and glory.  
It made him furious, jealous and _something else._

Dio wasn't even sure why he had taken that decision. Surely, visiting Johnny was a weird idea, almost masochistic in its nature, and the American jockey had never invited him nor expressed any desire to meet him again. It was likely going to be an awkward and unpleasant experience for the both of them, but he was determined to do it. There were few things he ached to say right in front of him, things that he had to get out of his chest before they consumed him alive.

Johnny's house was not as big as his father's, but it was more luxurious than anything he could have afforded during his darkest times. Somehow, it gave an idea of how hard he had been working to change his life-style after his legs had been healed.

Standing in front of the door, the British hesitated for a moment. His closed fist was already in the air and only few inches separated it from the wooden surface, but it simply refused to move, stopped by the many concerns that clogged the man's mind.

He could almost imagine his rival's disgust and surprise upon opening the door, and he was starting to doubt that whole deal was worth the bother. He was aware the chances of having a civil conversation were extremely slim, and it would have been a lie to say he wished for one; his main concern was whatever his visit would have been interpreted as an admission of defeat or a desperate cry for attention.

Deep down, Diego knew the latter was partially true.  
The lack of attention that had followed the end of the race had simply been insufferable. It was hard to accept his hatred might have been one sided, especially when he feared the reason his rival had lost interest in his person was his failure.  
 _Was he as dangerous as he used to be?  
_ Probably not.  
 _Was he even a rival?  
_ Not really. Johnny didn't seem to feel the need to compete much more.  
It was overwhelmingly irritating, and the sole thought annoyed him enough to convince him to knock at the door. They _had_ to talk.

"Johnny, open the door," he exclaimed in a demanding tone. It was an order basically, and he hoped that small provocation would have landed.

Few seconds passed, but nothing happened. Diego's expression hardened and he knocked on the door again, unable to accept defeat. His rival's name left his lips a second time, his tone more poisonous than before.

Finally, a movement from within the house.

The refined senses Scary Monsters had gifted him didn't fail to catch a series of faint sounds: steps, a breathing and few muttered curses. Someone, _Johnny_ , was getting closer and he didn't sound particularly happy about his arrival. _Perfect._

Even before the door was opened, Diego was able to inhale the man's familiar scent. It was almost nostalgic, though the memories it carried were bloody and violent for the most part. Though the fragrance hadn't changed one bit, he was quite sure the man connected to it had, at last in part. _What an odd thought._ It was finally time to see just how deep had this mutation been…

When Johnny's spiteful face appeared, Diego was already smirking. There was no happiness nor cheerfulness in his smile. It was nothing but a cold mask.  
"Hi, Johnny, it's been a while."

To his surprise, his rival allowed him to step into his own home, even if the offer was clearly insincere. It was as if he wanted to get over it as soon as possible, starting from the rushed tone to how little he seemed willing to speak. Johnny had gestured toward a table in the kitchen, then taken a sit himself, crossing his arms and waiting.  
"Why are you here? I'm going to buy your bullshit easily. You probably have a reason, and I'm not sure I'm going to like it."

Sitting down as well, Diego observed him cynically. He had grown more confident, but he was still able to see what his appearances hid: his heartbeat had grown faster, so it was clear Johnny wasn't as unfazed as he wanted to make him believe. His posture, too, looked unnatural. In a certain sense, that man remembered him of a kid forced to play the king; his attitude was unnatural, as if the clothes he was wearing weren't made to fit his person.

"Is it that weird to visit a friend from time to time?" the British eventually asked, casually looking around. He couldn't smell anyone, so his guess was that the other was currently living alone.  
"We're not friends, Dio."  
"Perhaps, but you can't deny we've been knowing each other for a long while. I'd dare to say that counts as something. I saw you during the golden ages of your youth, when people saw nothing but talent, I've seen you fall in the mud and get up… I'm just curious to see what you've become now."

Dio's cyan gaze was on Johnny, but this time it refused to move, locking with his. It was demanding; those eyes were basically ordering him to answer and make it quick.

The answer didn't make him wait. Johnny looked down, inhaled deeply and finally voiced his own thought. "I think you can see that by yourself," he began, opening his arms. "I'm slowly becoming the person I should have always been. It's not easy to get over everything that happened, but I have no intention to renounce. I owe this to myself and everyone else."

"With 'everyone', you mean Gyro, don't you?"

That seemed to shock Johnny: his eyes and mouth opened wide, as if he had been punched in the guts. His hands closed on the chair's armrests with more strength, until his finger grew pale. It was pretty clear he was trying to hold the emotions back, and he was doing a poor job hiding his struggle.  
"This doesn't concern you," he eventually hissed.

"You must miss him a lot. You two looked close," Diego continued, bluntly ignoring the other's reaction. Irritating him was what he wanted: any emotion was better than none, and he _wanted t_ o know Johnny's attention was _his._ "Did you visit his family yet? I heard you travelled to Italy some time ago. Isn't that the country Gyro was born in?"

"I did, and now stop calling his name! He deserved more than this, and you should have the decency to let me suffer in peace!" Johnny suddenly leashed out, grinding his teeth like a cornered animal. His eyes were full of rage, but there were tears shining at their corners. He was crying in silence.

That wasn't the reaction he had hoped for, so Diego was taken back for a second. How was he supposed to feel about it? Yes, he wanted Johnny to snap at him, but not like that; there was more desperation than will to fight there. Moreover, the focus was someone else, Gyro. Maybe it didn't make sense to be feel jealousy for the dead, but he did. Even after leaving that world, Gyro was still able to matter more than him.

A heavy silence fell between them, as none of them knew what to say. Few seconds went by, terrible and endless, then Diego forced himself to speak.

"Sorry about that, I just wanted to see the old you."  
 _I miss him._  
"I was hoping to see your eyes lighten with determination. It was fun to have you as a rival, you know."  
 _I want to be the one that keeps that fire burning.  
_ "But maybe it's too late. Maybe we're about to part definitely."  
 _You did, and_ _I don't want to be left behind._

His thoughts were taking over, not enough to be turned into words, but enough to hurt. Not knowing what to add, the British felt lost. He could only rub the back of his neck, looking down. All that rage, all that energy he had built up for this meeting was fading away; the delusion had really made his castle fall.

Johnny looked up, and he heard his heartbeat slow down, becoming more regular. Was he _really_ calming down…?

"After something as big as the Steel Ball Run, it would be weird if everything had stayed the same." Johnny spoke in a low tone, but there was no more hatred in his voice. It felt weird to hear him be like that. He got up, slowly walking toward Diego, but didn't add anything else.

Diego, however, got the hint and looked up. Hope, relief, once again that burning sensation; it was incredible how many emotions a man could feel in such a short amount of time.  
"So?" He urged him to continue.  
"Why do you want to hate me? We don't even compete anymore, and we almost died during that race. Don't get me wrong, I don't like you, but I can't bring myself to want you dead anymore. I'm exhausted, now that Gyro is gone I only want to change."

The answer caught Diego by surprise. The jockey's lips parted, but no sound could be heard _. Change._ That word had made something click inside of him. He had always been to stubborn to see himself objectively, and perhaps it was time to start doing it.  
That hate…That burning hate he felt…  
 _Was it really just hate?  
_ Diego refused to answer for a moment, both to Johnny and to himself.

"You're probably too prideful to recognize it, Dio, but things have changed. Even you. After everything that happened, only an idiot wouldn't. For example, you… I doubt your old self would have had the guts to apologize."

That was admittedly true: there had been days when he would have laughed and enjoy Johnny's pain. The realization made his behaviour feel alien to himself.  
Why had he apologised?  
 _Things have changed, Diego._  
Why did he even care about Johnny's opinion now?  
 _Is this really hate, Diego?_

Finally, something snapped.  
He got up all of sudden, his expression finally showing a hint of sincere emotion: he was upset and confused. _"I don't know,"_ he answered, not knowing whatever he was talking with himself or the other.

"Things have always been like this. We were rival, we spited each other and went on with our lives, never too far away from each other. Now that you're gone…it's as if something is missing. It's weird not to see you around as much, _and I cannot stand the idea I'm no more part of your life."  
_ He had said it, finally.

Diego grabbed Johnny's arms, and he gasped, but didn't try to pull back. "If I'm here," he continued, getting a bit closer to his rival, "is because I want you back."

Johnny swallowed dryly, seemingly surprised, yet not scared, by his revelation. "Dio…"

Now they were close, so close that it would have been uncomfortable under normal circumstances. That wasn't the case, though. Diego still felt that burning need, only that it was clearer now: he wanted Johnny _, him all_. Being finally able to admit it without regret was an immense relief, but it was too soon to celebrate. Johnny hadn't done anything yet, but he could have refused, he could have screamed, he could have-

"Dio, perhaps we don't have to be rivals forever," Johnny cut his train of thought. From the way he spoke, it was blatant he was at least as confused as him., but there was a hint of hopefulness.

The British found himself smiling at those words, and for once he didn't care about showing a 'softer' side. "Yes…" He admitted, and almost unconsciously caressed Johnny's cheek. His hand then reached his lips, and he pushed the lower one down with a thumb.

He wasn't sure what he desired made sense, but he had been aching for too long and too painfully to question himself much longer. Johnny's was not complaining, and the way he reacted — the changing in his breathing and heartbeats along with the rest — made him believe he was waiting for him to move.

Diego decided to follow his instinct.  
Johnny's lips were softer than he had expected, and he found himself craving more and more. Exactly as he had hoped, the other man didn't fight back, and after a second of hesitation, he put a hand behind his head and tugged at his blonde locks.

Johnny's even parted his lips, allowing him to deepen the kiss some more. Diego was eager to oblige, and met his tongue in a heated dance. He had kissed many people in his life — especially women — but that felt different; it was hungry and liberating. They probably needed it.

He let him go only to gasp for air, before resuming. His hands weren't still, on the opposite: his arms wrapped around Johnny and brought him closer. His body pressed against him was unexpectedly soothing.

But as much he had wanted it, it couldn't last forever. Eventually they parted again, even if Dio refused to let him go just yet. He even casually nibbled at his lip, somehow unable to fully understand what had just unfold.

Johnny was the first one who dared to speak. His cheeks still showed a faint shade of red and his breathing was irregular, but he was trying to look as dignified as possible.  
"I…I assume you're going to visit me again."  
Diego answered with a nod. "I believe we'll have a lot to talk about…We can discuss this at my place next time."  
"Yes."

 _Oh, if things had changed… But maybe it wasn't that bad.  
It wasn't hate, after all.  
_


End file.
